


Couldn't Wouldn't Shouldn't

by suzvoy



Category: Smallville
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-29
Updated: 2004-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/pseuds/suzvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent, rebel with a cause. Or at least a motive. My first SV fic. PG-13 for bad language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couldn't Wouldn't Shouldn't

## Couldn't Wouldn't Shouldn't

by Suz

<http://suzvoy.livejournal.com/>

* * *

It occurs to him as they sit on a leather couch that Clark probably shouldn't have his feet up on - and certainly not while wearing his sneakers. Lex suspects Maria will curse loudly in what she claims is her native language when she arrives later, which is precisely the reason he says nothing. 

Plus...well, it's _Clark_. 

He's not sure what made him think of it; maybe it's the movie he's paying no attention to which is currently playing on the Luthor-size TV Lucas bought when he was in residence. Maybe something happened there that made him think it. 

Or maybe his brain just wanted to know. 

"Have you ever been drunk, Clark?" 

The feet shift, but move. Lex keeps his gaze on the television (though he may not actually be watching the movie, staring at the screen for the past forty-five minutes is certainly safer than staring at Clark). 

"Sorry?" 

Indulging a smile, Lex finally turns his head to look at him; back pushed up against the opposite end of the couch, knees bent, feet planted firmly on the leather. He wonders if the indentations will ever come out. "Have you ever been drunk?" He wasn't asking to tease, or to be patronising. Just curiosity. 

That brow furrows. "I'm underage, Lex." 

The perfect answer. His grin magnifies. "That wasn't what I asked." 

Clark rolls his eyes. "No, I've never been drunk. Mister Pedantic." 

_There's_ his new LuthorCorp job title. He'll have to suggest it to Dad. 

A few moments pass. The movie continues. So does Clark. 

"Which is not to say I've never had a drink." 

It amuses him more than it probably should. "Clark Kent, rebel without a cause." 

The resulting glare is considerable, and Lex knows Clark is just five seconds away from sticking his tongue out. Okay, maybe he _does_ want to tease him. A little. Deliberately misunderstanding the response, Lex continues. "I take it from your expression that you didn't enjoy it?" 

The nose wrinkling is accompanied by a shrug. "Didn't like the taste, and it doesn't have any...doesn't seem to have any affect on me. Seems kinda pointless." 

Lex nodded. Fair enough. Not that he could just let this drop; it was way too much fun. There were half a dozen things he should have been doing, but at that moment tormenting Clark Kent beat out any of them. "Is there anything else you bad boy types do that I should know about?" 

"Oh please," Clark snorts, shifting his body again, straightening his back. And then he freezes. 

Suddenly concerned, Lex's humour fades as he leans towards him. "Clark?" 

His head had lowered slightly, but now he raises it, meeting Lex's gaze. "Coming here." 

Lex can feel something then. Something...fragile, almost non-existent. His voice feels the same when he speaks. "Coming here?" 

That head nods, almost in slow motion. Maybe he should get his eyes examined... 

"You know what Dad's like. Some days he's better than others...but most of the time he hates it when I come over. Especially when it's for no other reason than to spend time with you." 

"Spend time with me?" Acknowledging that he's stuck on repeat, Lex gives himself a mental slap. "Where does he think you are now?" 

"With Pete." He continues quickly, as if needing to explain. "It's okay, Pete'll cover for me. He's getting good at that." 

Having the vague impression that he's missing something, Lex nonetheless says the thing that he really _should_ say. As much as he doesn't want to. "Clark...much as it occasionally gratifies me to annoy your father, if this is going to cause problems with your family..." God knew the Luthor family was too screwed up as it was. He didn't want to be responsible for the same thing happening to the Kent's. 

"No," Clark speaks urgently, moving his whole body this time. His left leg moves off the couch and the other bends under him as he leans towards Lex. "No, Lex. You're...my best friend. Coming to see you isn't just something I want to do. It's like a..." 

"Need?" 

Ohhhhh, that is such a bad word to say. It really is. He's had an excellent education, and he's incapable of producing any other word? What was the world coming to? Maybe he should invest in schools to make sure this kind of thing doesn't happen to any more twenty something millionaire's with a Clark Kent fixation. 

And when had not-watching a movie suddenly turned into something so serious? 

"Need," Clark repeats and Lex shivers. Lex actually _shivers_. It doesn't matter that the fire at the opposite end of the room is alight, or that sunlight is streaming inside through various windows. 

Clark's knee is touching his thigh now, warm even through clothing. Lex should look away, he really should look away, not be leaning towards his best friend with thoughts that are nowhere near best friendy (see? That? Another nail in the coffin of modern education). 

But none of that seems to matter when those eyes are on his, when that body is 

s  
l  
o  
o  
o  
o  
o  
w  
l  
y 

rubbing down the side of his with an exuberant innocence that is one _hell_ of a turn on- 

His brain stops, just for a moment, as it finally deduces exactly what's going on. 

Clark Kent is seducing him. 

Clark Kent is _seducing_ him? 

Clark _Kent_ is seducing him? 

There's something intrinsically wrong about this (and hey - he still has enough brain capacity left to use words like 'intrinsically'. That's good to know) and though it's so, so warm, and there's hot breath passing over his throat, he knows he has to be sure. 

"Clark," lick lips, lick lips, don't stare at _his_ , "are you," how was it that a Kansas farmboy could make him feel like he'd never kissed anyone much less fucked before? "really sure," handonhisstomachhandonhisstomach, "about this?" 

One word, one little word, that's all it'd take- 

"Yes." 

Thank fuck. 

**~FINIS**


End file.
